


In the Company of Wolves

by MercurialTenacity



Category: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them (Movies), Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - School, Arguing, Bad Parenting, Blow Jobs, Come Swallowing, Crying, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Drunk Sex, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Exams, First Kiss, First Time, Grooming, Hugs, Humiliation, Ice Cream, Isolation, Kissing, M/M, Manipulation, Manipulative Relationship, Non-Consensual Alcohol Use, Non-Consensual Blow Jobs, Not A Happy Ending, Power Dynamics, Rape, Rough Oral Sex, Sexual Coercion, Teacher-Student Relationship, Underage Drinking, Underage Rape/Non-con, Underage Sex, Vulnerability, Wakes & Funerals, grandparent death, unreasonable expectations
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-13
Updated: 2017-05-13
Packaged: 2018-10-31 04:46:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,505
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10891983
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MercurialTenacity/pseuds/MercurialTenacity
Summary: It takes less than a week for Percival’s life to fall apart.  He was an honors student, but his grades are dropping and the only thing his parents care about are his test scores.  Percival doesn’t know what to do.  He gets called into Director Grindelwald’s office and he expects the worst, but Grindelwald is… nice.  Maybe it’s a little weird, but Percival comes to rely on Grindelwald more and more.  He trusts him.  He doesn’t know what he’d do without him.  And when he’s alone, when he has nowhere left to go, it’s Grindelwald he turns to.





	In the Company of Wolves

**Author's Note:**

  * For [kallistob](https://archiveofourown.org/users/kallistob/gifts).
  * Translation into 中文 available: [In the Company of Wolves 與狼為伴](https://archiveofourown.org/works/12231885) by [jls20011425](https://archiveofourown.org/users/jls20011425/pseuds/jls20011425)



> This story is based on [this post](https://fantastic-beasts-smut.tumblr.com/post/159496110578) by [ fantastic-beasts-smut](https://fantastic-beasts-smut.tumblr.com/) (spoilers!), and I cannot over state how much I love it. Thank you for such an incredible idea!
> 
> This is straight up underage non-con, so please know what you’re getting into. Percival is a fifteen year old student, and Grindelwald is the director of his school.

It takes less than a week for Percival’s life to fall apart.  Not that it was perfect before, but it was pretty all right.  He’s an honors student at Ilvermorny Academy and he has a big exam coming up, one of those aptitude tests that supposed to tell you how well you’re going to do in life.  He’s been studying for it for a month, they all have.  Every night after school, on the weekends, putting every spare moment into study groups with friends because he’s determined to ace it.  He’s not nervous exactly, but he takes it seriously.  He knows how important school is, and he knows how important this test is.  It’s a firm sort of resolve that drives him forward.

Then his grandfather dies.

They were never all that close.  He was a nice enough man, and he always sent birthday cards with checks.  He had some important job in the government, but Percival never really understood what it was.  He was always a little distant.  Percival liked him well enough.

He misses school on Friday for the funeral.  There are a lot of people, people he’s never met.  He’s never seen his grandmother’s house so full.  He mingles in with the crowd, but somehow still feels a little removed from it all.  He’s not all that sad, and he doesn’t know these people.  He tries to think through his study notes in his head, but people he’s never met keep telling him how sorry they are.  It’s weird, and he wishes they could go home.  He’s sad for his father and grandmother, of course, but it sort of disorienting to be comforted for the loss of someone he barely knew.

Percival is glad when everybody else leaves.  The house quiets down and he helps his mother and aunt with cleaning up so that his grandmother doesn’t have to.  It’s nice to have something to do, even if he’s not really thrilled about the cleaning itself.

His father sits up all night in his grandmother’s parlor with brandy.  He doesn’t get drunk all that often, but Percival never enjoys it when he does.  He has a feeling that tonight is going to be worse than usual.  Mostly Percival avoids him, but he has to go through the parlor to get to bed.  He tries to skate through quickly, but he doesn’t make it.  His father grabs his arm and pulls him aside.  He tells him how much it means that Percival is so promising, how important it is, that he’s his grandfather’s legacy and he’s got to get it right.  It looks like his father might cry, and it’s unnerving.  Percival doesn’t say anything.  He just nods until his father lets go of his arm to pour another drink.

His father works for the FBI, which you’d think would be pretty cool, having a superspy for a dad.  But it’s really just like not having a dad all that much.  He works late and when he comes home he’s exhausted.  He usually just eats dinner and goes to bed.  Percival sees him on the weekend sometimes, but sometimes he works then too.  Now his father just looks exhausted, staring into space with a glass in his hand, and his words echo in Percival’s head.  He isn’t sure what it means to be someone’s legacy.

When Percival gets home on Sunday he falls asleep on his bed without even opening his schoolbooks.

On Monday he bombs the test.

He’s knows he’s failed as soon as he puts the pencil down.  When he gets it back a week later he shreds it.  It doesn’t want to look at it, or think about it, or risk any of his friends finding out.  There’s no way he’s letting his parents see it.

He knows his friends did well.  They always do, and he was supposed to also.  His teacher starts talking about preparing for what comes after school and Percival doesn’t get it, they’re only in eighth grade.  But she seems serious, she says they have to decide on a goal and choose the right classes, or else they won’t be able to make it after graduation.  Percival tries not to think about the test score which already says he won’t make it after graduation.

His friends drink it all up.  They’re excited.  Sera is going to be a politician, and Tina wants to be a detective.  Percival is supposed to work in the government.  It's what his family does.  He lays awake at night trying to picture it.  He thinks about himself doing his father's job, or his grandfather's.  Working nights and weekends.  Shaking people's hands and signing papers.  He rolls over in bed and stares at the wall, pulling the blankets up over his shoulders.

He can't explain the sinking, tight feeling in his chest that it gives him to his friends, so he doesn't try.  It's all they want to talk about when they study or hang out, so he starts to study alone.

He gets a C on his next paper.  He doesn't understand it.  He's supposed to be good at this.  His teacher asks him to stay after, and she asks him if he's all right, and if there's anything bothering him.  He looks up at her, backback slung over one shoulder, and can't figure out how to say that she’s bothering him when she talks about planning his entire future at fifteen.  So he says no.

He spends his lunch period in the library trying to correct the mistakes in his paper.  It doesn't matter, he already got the grade and he can’t change it, but he thinks that maybe, if he can get it right even for himself, he'll feel better.  The words blur in front of his eyes and he suddenly can't remember a single fact about American literature.  He wads up the paper and throws it in the trash.

Yeah, his parents are gonna find out.  He never really thought he could keep it from them, he just… didn't want to talk about it.  But then the school calls because apparently his behavior is “concerning,” and yeah, they know.  And they are concerned.  They're concerned about his future, that he's not taking things seriously, that he's not applying himself.  They’re not concerned about him.  “So what if I'm not,” he asks, and oh boy was it ever the wrong thing to say.

He spends more time studying than ever.  He locks himself in the library, surrounds himself with books and papers, and takes the most comprehensive notes he ever has in his life.  When he looks back at them later he can’t figure out what they mean.  None of it makes a difference.  So he stops.

He's pretty sure his grades are irretrievably bad by the time he gets called into the director’s office.  After all, why else would he want to see him?  Ilvermorny Academy requires good grades.  They don't expel people for flunking, but they do recommend they find an “alternative situation.”  They strongly recommend.  He figures that's what this is.

He waits outside Director Grindelwald’s office with his backpack at his feet, messing with a loose thread on his sweater.  He winds it around his finger until he feels the circulation start to go.  He unwinds it, tugs on it, and winds it again.  He doesn’t know how he’s going to tell his parents.  His entire family has graduated from Ilvermorny.  His grandfather certainly had.  There’d never been any question that it was where he would go, and now he’s going to get thrown out.  Maybe the school will call them, and save Percival having to say it himself.

The door opens and Director Grindelwald himself steps out to summon Percival inside.  His finger is caught in the string and shit, shit, he yanks it free hastily as he picks up his backpack.

“Come in, Percival.”

Percival follows Grindelwald inside and takes in the elegant office as he lowers himself into a chair.  He's never been in here before.  Everything is polished, expensive but not like – not showing off, not like some people.  If Percival had to guess, he’d say most of the stuff was here because Grindelwald actually liked it. 

He looks back to Grindelwald.  He’s sitting behind his desk, watching Percival as though he hasn’t quite made up his mind about something.

“Do you know why you’re here, Percival?” he asks finally.

Percival shrugs, a little warily.  He knows better than to answer questions like that.  Grindelwald leans back in his chair and Percival drops his gaze down to the desk.  He stares at the little plaque on the edge, reading _Gellert Grindelwald, Director of Ilvermorny Academy for Gifted Students_.  Gifted.  Yeah, right.

“It's because I'm concerned about you.”

Percival's eyes flick up quickly, searching for the placation he's grown accustomed to.  He doesn't see it.

“My grades…” he mutters.

“Not your grades.  You.”

Percival stares.  He wasn't entirely aware there was a difference.

Something changes in Grindelwald’s face, and Percival can't place it, but he realizes Grindelwald is being absolutely sincere.  It's weird.

“Your behavior recently Percival, is not the behavior of a young man who is well.  And if this is the case, I would not being doing my job if I didn’t express my concern to you.  You have great potential, that's why you're here.”

Percival barely stops himself from rolling his eyes.  “Yeah, I know.”  And then, after a moment, “Sir.”

“Has someone said that to you before?”

Percival does roll his eyes then, and he sighs in annoyance.  “Only just about every day.  More since they stopped believing it.”  Percival pauses.  He isn't sure why he said that last part out loud.

“Hmm.  What do you believe?”

Percival shrugs.  “I dunno,” he says, not meeting Grindelwald's gaze.  He crosses his arms a bit defensively, but he tells himself it's because Grindelwald's office is cold.

“And your friends?”

Percival doesn't even know how to start on that one.  It turns out his friends don't have a lot of time for an ex-honors student whose GPA would be enough to sink a tanker.  “Busy.”

Grindelwald nods.  “You don't have tell to me about what's on your mind, Percival.  But it's very difficult to go through life without talking at all.  Do you have anyone…?”

Percival is silent, staring down at the shiny plaque.

“A teacher, perhaps?”

He shakes his head.

“I see.  Well, in that case, I can send a recommendation for a counselor to your parents -”

Percival's head shoots up.  “A counselor?  What kind of counselor?”

“A psychologist.  A professional, who will be able to help you address the issues weighing on you.”

“A therapist,” Percival says disbelievingly.  That is the last thing he needs, for his parents to get a recommendation from his school that he go to therapy.  “Look, sir…”  Grindelwald is watching him, listening.  “I don't need therapy.”

Grindelwald considers him, but Percival is resolute.  After a moment, Grindelwald sighs.  “Very well.  I won't make you do anything you don't want to.  But I would like to meet with you weekly, for a while.” He smiles slightly at Percival's creased brow.  “For my own peace of mind.  The wellbeing of students at this school is my most important task.”

Percival nods because yeah, whatever, he's just relieved to have talked Grindelwald out of telling his parents to send him to fucking therapy.  He doesn't really want to meet with Grindelwald again, but it's a half hour out of his day, it's fine.

“Very well.  Back to class with you now.”

Percival wastes no time with the dismissal.

 

\----------------------------------------

 

His next meeting with Grindelwald dispenses with some of the awkwardness.  Percival’s life hasn’t gotten any better, so he doesn’t figure he has much to lose by sitting in the director’s office.  There were rumors that went around about Grindelwald, like there were for all the teachers, but more so for him since people don’t see him all that much.  Last Percival remembers, people were saying that he was part of some international conspiracy against the working class.  Sitting in Grindelwald’s office, Percival doesn’t know how anyone could believe that.  He’s rich, sure, but he’s not nearly as stuck up about it as half Percival’s classmates are.  He’d seemed a little weird the first time they met, but if Percival’s being honest with himself, he knows he’s been a bit defensive lately.

When he sits down in front of Grindelwald’s desk the man smiles kindly, and asks how Percival’s week has been.  Percival doesn’t quite know what goes through his head.  He knows the answer to that question.  His week has been fine.  It’s been pretty good.

“It sucked.”

It had, though.  The more his grades drop the less he seems to care, which only makes his grades worse, and he feels guilty about all of it.  Nothing he tries to do to distract himself seems to be working.  He can't focus on the TV for more than ten minutes, he can't finish a book for the life of him, and there's nothing to do at home.  He doesn't have anyone to go out and do things with anymore, and it's just depressing to go out alone.  So yeah.  It sucked.

“I'm sorry to hear that.”  Grindelwald… really does sound sorry.  Percival frowns.  He shouldn’t have said it, but he can’t take it back now.

“I mean, it’s whatever.”

“It doesn’t sound that way.  If you’re not feeling good about yourself, or if there’s anyone making you feel bad, that’s not something you deserve.”  Grindelwald’s voice is gentle, considerate.  “Is there anyone like that, Percival?”

Percival scuffs his shoes on the floor before he stops abruptly.  “Well yeah, but like… I dunno.”  Grindelwald waits for him.  “My friends, I guess.  They’re just like, busy or whatever, studying.”

“Do you know why they don’t want you studying with them?”

Percival shakes his head.  “It’s not like that, they just…”  Well, it’s kind of like that.  They get frustrated with him when he’s not keeping up, and they _don’t_ really want him around if he doesn’t want to start studying to get into an Ivy League in eighth grade.  “They think I’m not taking things seriously, I guess.  They just want to get into good schools, like their parents want.”

Grindelwald nods, understanding.  “Is that what your parents want?”

“Yeah.”  Percival is nodding, picking up momentum a bit now.  “They think the only important things are grades and careers, and they don’t care about anything else.  My dad just wants me to be like my grandfather, and I don’t even know what my grandfather _did._   I’m supposed to be some perfect copy or something.”

“He doesn’t see you.”

“Just the numbers on my report card.  That’s all anyone sees.”

“That’s not true.”  Percival looks up quickly, finding Grindelwald’s eye.  “I see a great deal more than that.  You’re a very talented young man, but you deserve to use that talent in a way which you enjoy.”  Grindelwald leans forward, resting his elbows in the edge of his desk.  He holds Percival’s gaze steady, open and honest.  “There’s a lot more to you than numbers, my boy.”

It’s easy after that.  Grindelwald is sympathetic and understanding, and it’s easy for Percival to tell him his life.  He talks about the pressure he feels, that no one notices, how his friends don’t feel any pressure at all.  Grindelwald agrees with him and validates him.  Percival thinks maybe Grindelwald felt the same way at some point too.  He doesn’t know how else Grindelwald could understand so exactly, and it’s reassuring.  Percival explains everything and Grindelwald nods and hums in all the right places, asks the right questions, and for the first time in maybe ever Percival feels heard.  They talk so long it runs halfway through Percival’s chemistry class, but Grindelwald gives him a note to skip the period.  Percival usually sits next to Sera in that class anyway, and he can’t stand the tension these days, so he grins as Grindelwald signs the slip.

“Will you be all right this week?” Grindelwald asks him, frowning a bit with concern.

“Yeah, I…”  Percival catches Grindelwald’s expression, and he hesitates.  He feels better _now_ , a lot better.  But he thinks about the week ahead, about going home to his parents and the strained questions over dinner before he can escape to his room, the weekend he’ll spend alone, and the three days of classes he has left before then… he shrugs.

Grindelwald looks as though he’s debating something, and it’s a moment before he speaks again.  When he does it’s with a slow sort of caution, as though he wants to be sure Percival understands.  “Now, Percival.  I wouldn’t usually do this, but I think you’re responsible enough that it’s all right.”  He plucks a business card from the holder on his desk and flips it over, uncapping a pen to write something on the back.  He hands it to Percival.  “I want you to let me know how you are over the next few days.  I know it’s difficult.  I do.”  He gives a wry smile.  “But I want you to know that you’re not alone right now.”

Percival turns the card over in his hands.  A phone number, in Grindelwald’s thin, even pen strokes.  Percival nods.  “Yeah, I – okay.”  His throat is strangely tight, and he feels like the card somehow weighs more than it should.  He tucks in into his pocket, double checking that it’s secure.

“I mean it.”  Grindelwald rises to get the door for Percival, pausing with his hand on the knob.  “And if anyone acts as though you are less than the brilliant, charming young man you are, they’re not someone who truly cares about you.”

Percival feels himself flushing with a mix of embarrassment and gratitude, and he stammers out a farewell as he leaves the office.

He sits in the hall outside his history class, the next one after chemistry.  The hallway is almost eerily empty during the period, and Percival holds his slip from Grindelwald ready in case he’s questioned.  He leans back against the wall, backpack squashed behind him and providing a bit of a cushion, save for all the textbooks.

He tugs the business card out of his pocket, careful not to let the corners get bent, and turns it over and over in his hands.  It has the school motto on it, and Percival makes a face.  He somehow can’t imagine Grindelwald putting it on his card himself if it weren’t some sort requirement.  The dark pen strokes keep catching his eye against the heavy cream.  He doesn’t know what he’s feeling exactly.  He has someone to talk to.  Finally.  Someone who understands.  And Grindelwald’s doing way more than he has to for Percival.  It’s above and beyond to give Percival his phone number, and Percival feels a sort of pride at his trust.  Grindelwald had said he was responsible enough to handle it, and he is.

He pulls out his phone and saves the number.

 

\----------------------------------------

 

It’s not that night but the next that he practically bolts up the stairs after dinner, slams his door harder than he means to and hard enough that he hears his father shout from downstairs, and lands on his bed in a shaking ball of frustration and undirected energy.  He doesn’t want to go to a fucking Ivy League.  He doesn’t.  He can’t even articulate why, but he can’t stand the thought.  It makes him burn all over to hear his father talk about it like it’s already decided, and what if he just fails all his exams, what then.  He’s shaking, he doesn’t want to sit still but he can’t come up with any way to move.  His phone is jabbing into his hip as he lays on his pillow and he pulls it out of his pocket, about to shove it into the bedside drawer before something makes him pause.  He unlocks it and opens up his contacts, scrolling down to G.

 _“Hi Mr Grindelwald,”_ he writes, “ _its Percival”_

He erases it.  That sounds stupid.

_“This is Percival, you said I should tell you if” –_

Fuck.

_“My dad wont stop talking about Dartmouth.  I dont want to go but he doesnt listen.  I just wanted to tell you I guess”_

He hits send before he can stop himself, and then chucks his phone across the room into his laundry pile before burying his head in his pillow.

Two and a half minutes later the phone buzzes.  Percival tries to tell himself he wasn’t waiting for it, but he dashes across the room and digs through his old T-shirts so quickly that he’s not even fooling himself.

 _“I’m so sorry to hear that.  Dartmouth is a fine school, but I can’t picture you there.”_   And a moment later, _“I’m glad you told me.  Remember that you don’t have to do anything you don’t want to.”_

 _“Thats not what it feels like”_ Percival texts back bitterly.  He’s hunched on the floor, back against his dresser and a nervousness rising in his chest.

“ _I know.  It will get better once you’re away from your parents more.  They don’t have as much say as you think they do.”_

Percival sighs.  He can’t wait to be away from his parents.  He’s about to reply when another message pops up.

_“Where are you now?”_

_“My room”_

_“Are you safe from your parents?”_

It’s a strange word to use, safe.  Percival shifts a little, uncomfortable with the idea that he _wouldn’t_ be safe.  But he is.

_“Yah”_

_“You’re upset.”_ Well, yeah.  He’s upset.  His whole future is being planned for him right before his eyes.  _“What would make you more comfortable?”_

And if he knew that, why would he be texting Grindelwald?

_“I dunno”_

It’s a lot longer before Grindelwald texts him again.  It’s really only a couple minutes, but as Percival watches the little clock in the corner of his phone it feels like forever.  He drapes his wrist over his knee, phone clutched in his hand, trying to pretend he’s not staring at it.

When Grindelwald’s reply finally lights up the screen Percival almost jumps, leaning forward and heart flooding with relief.

_“It’s all right, you deserve to relax.  Why don’t you get ready for bed?”_

Percival frowns for a moment.  It’s a little early, but… well, why not.  Pajamas would be more comfortable anyway, and wrapping up in the blankets and pillows on his bed sounds nice.

_“K”_

Percival roots through his dresser until he finds the pajama pants he’s looking for.  He pulls them on, discarding his jeans and shirt on top of the rest of the laundry, and heads down the hall to the bathroom.

By the time he’s crawling into bed he wonders whether he should text Grindelwald again.  He feels like it might be weird.  Does Grindelwald really want to keep hearing from him?  But when he picks up his phone the blue light blinking in the corner tells him he already has a message.  It’s from Grindelwald, three minutes ago.

_“How are you feeling?  Better?”_

Percival smiles, not entirely sure why.

 _“Yah”_ He replies.  “ _A bit better :)”_ And after a moment, “ _Bit tired”_

 _“Good.  I’m glad you reached out to me Percival.”_ And then, _“Are you in bed?”_

 _“Yah”_ Percival says again.  _“Just turned out the lights”_ He isn’t quite sure why he adds that, except that it feels a little different texting Grindelwald in the dark.  It’s like there’s a barrier between him and the rest of the world, and the only thing on the other side of it with him is the glow of his screen, and Grindelwald.

_“Wearing something comfortable?”_

_“My favorite pajamas.  Theyre green, pretty soft”_ Percival is glad they’re clean tonight.  They really are his favorites, warm and a little fuzzy, with dinosaurs.  Grindelwald doesn’t need to know about that part.  And then, a bit defensively, _“I got them a while ago”_

His heart beats a little too quickly in his chest before he gets the reply _“That sounds nice.”_

 _“Yah :)”_ And, because it feels only fair, _“What are u doing?”_

_“Spending the evening in.  Catching up on some reading.”_

Percival has the mental image of Grindelwald in a silk dressing gown with his feet propped up in front of a hearth, book held in one hand.  He snorts with a huff of laughter at the idea of actually reading for fun.  _“Sounds nice.  Sorry to bother you”_

The reply is instantaneous this time.  _“You’re not.”_

Percival hides his smile in the pillow.

He falls asleep like that, texting Grindelwald about little things, answering his questions and grinning sleepily each time Grindelwald compliments him.  His eyes are heavy, starting to burn with the late hour, and he lets them slide closed.  He’ll just rest until Grindelwald replies again.  He’s asleep too soon to remember the phone sliding from his grip.

Somehow Grindelwald never seems too busy to respond to Percival's texts.  In fact he checks in on Percival all the time, asking how his day went and what he's thinking about.  It's amazing and it's overwhelming, and Percival finds himself waiting through every other conversation he has for his phone to buzz.  When he's talking to Grindelwald any answer he gives end up correct.  He just has to be honest and say what he's thinking and Grindelwald will understand.  It takes Percival a while to trust that Grindelwald really means it, and that he's not patronizing him and doesn't see Percival as a nuisance like everyone else does.  But Grindelwald sees Percival as a person, not a grade producing machine or a politician to be or a study partner to hold the flash cards.  Grindelwald laughs with him and sympathizes with him, and Graves doesn't know where he would be without him.

He just… can’t think of a way to explain it without it sounding weird.  When his mother asks who he’s texting so much he says Sera, and he doesn’t see Sera often enough anymore for her to ask.  He doesn’t tell anyone because seriously, what would he say?  That he’s friends with the director of the school and Percival doesn’t want to fall asleep at night without texting him?  So, yeah, it is weird, and Percival doesn’t entirely have it under control, but he loves it.  Having Grindelwald’s attention is overwhelming.  When Grindelwald talks to him it’s like there’s nothing else in the world, nothing that compares to having the weight of this man’s attention.  It makes Percival feel unique.  Special.  Wanted.  Every time Grindelwald texts him he gets a rush of excitement, and maybe it’s weird, but Grindelwald is his anchor.

 

\----------------------------------------

 

Then his report card comes out.  He’d been ready to intercept it, had three different excuses for why he didn’t have it, but his mother picks it up from the office.  And there’s nothing he can do about that.  She’s waiting in the kitchen with the envelope in her hand when Percival gets home, and the tight line of her mouth tells him instantly that something’s wrong.  She holds up the piece of paper and he closes his eyes.

“Is there something you’ve been meaning to tell us, Percival?”

He doesn’t know what to say.  He stands there in the kitchen doorway, backpack still in hand, and sways on the spot.

“Just last night your father asked you how your grades were.  You told him they were _fine._ ”

Percival makes a halfhearted attempt to mutter “It is fine,” but his mother doesn’t give him the chance.

“This says you’re _failing chemistry._   Is that true?”

“Yeah.”  Percival stares at his mother’s shoes.

“How dare you?”  How dare he what, fail chemistry?  It wasn’t exactly hard to do.  “How dare you lie to your father?  We have given you every opportunity, every advantage, and this is what you do?”

“Yeah,” he says again.  There’s nothing else to say.  It’s not like it was a choice to be a failure, but he doesn’t know how to explain that.

His mother stares at him in disbelief.  “Go upstairs.  Go wait in your room until your father gets home and you can tell it to him.”

So Percival goes.  He feels almost numb as he climbs the stairs, but there’s an undercurrent of seething, helpless frustration that makes his skin crawl.  He has nowhere to direct it, nothing to do.  His parents don’t give a shit and they don’t understand any of it.

He throws his backpack onto the bed, and it bounces before tipping over on its side.  Percival sinks down until he’s sitting on the floor, leaning against the side of his bed with his head in his hands.  It’s going to get so much worse.  Once his father comes home it will be so much worse.  There are tremors in his hands and he balls them into fists to stop it.  He was getting better.  His grades were still shit, but talking with Grindelwald made him feel like a person again, and he was getting better.  If report cards had come out in a month he probably would have improved by then, but they came out now and now his parents hate him, and he’s back to being only as good as some stupid test says.  And it says he’s shit.

He thinks about texting Grindelwald, but he doesn’t know what to say.  _My parents think I’m a failure?  My dad is probably going to kill me?  I fucked up?_   None of that is exactly new, and it makes him feel sick to think about saying it.  So he sits on the floor and he waits, stomach churning, for his father’s car to pull into the driveway.  He doesn’t want any of this to be happening.

When he hears the car door slam and his father coming into the house he closes his eyes.  There are muted voices downstairs, harsh tones that Percival doesn’t want to hear.

“He’s _WHAT_?”

Percival flinches at his father’s raised voice.  There are heavy footsteps, and then his father shouts up the stairs.

“Percival!  Get down here and explain this to me!”

The walk through the hall and down the stairs is worse than he thought.  Standing in the kitchen is a living hell.  His report card is worse than he thought.  Chemistry, geometry, history… his heart sinks.  His father is furious. 

“This is unacceptable!  What is the meaning of this Percival, how did you let this happen?” his father demands.

Percival shakes his head, feeling like he’s about to burst.  He can’t give him an explanation.

“Is it your friends?  Are you spending all your time partying, is that it?”

“No,” he snaps.  He can’t hold it in. “I don’t have any friends!  They all hate me now!”

“Then what’s the problem?  Why aren’t you studying?”

Percival stares at his father in disbelief.  He looks to his mother and finds nothing of comfort.

“You have to learn to make sacrifices for what you want if you expect to get anywhere!  How do you think I got where I am today?  How do you think your grandfather did it?”

“I don’t care how he did it!  I don’t care!”  All of the anger, all of the confusion and doubt that Percival has been feeling is rising to the surface.  He knows he shouldn’t say it, he knows it will only make things worse, but he can’t stop.  “I don’t even know what grandfather did!  He could barely remember my name!  Why would I want to be like him?”

Percival can see the anger swelling up in his father, and he knows he went too far.  “Your grandfather,” he hisses, “was an incredible man.  He cared for this family a great deal, and he could not have asked for a worse grandson in return.”

The words reverberate through Percival’s chest like a shockwave.  He’s burning all over, he wants to scream back but the words are caught in his throat and he can’t make sound.  He feels helpless, powerless, and all he wants to do is shoot back in kind.

“Fuck you,” he chokes, “fuck you and fuck him!”

His father’s face is turning a deep red.

“Percival.”  His mother’s voice is cold.  “Go to your room this instant.”

Percival wants to scream, but he turns on his heel and slams his bedroom door hard enough to make his furniture rattle.

There are hot, messy tears running down his face and he doesn’t remember when he started crying, but he can’t stop.  He grabs unseeingly for his phone because he needs help, he needs someone to help him, he needs –

_“I dont know what to do my parents hate me im worthless”_

A teardrop falls on his phone screen distorting the pixels under it, and he wipes it away harshly.  The seconds it takes to get a reply feel like hours.

_“You’re not worthless.  What happened?”_

Percival fires off messages in quick succession.

_“I dont know”_

_“I cant do it”_

_“They hate me they saw my report card”_

_“I dont know what to do”_

Grindelwald’s reply isn’t what he expects, but it might be what he needs.

_“Do you want me to pick you up?”_

Percival’s choking on sobs but for a moment he stops breathing, nervousness fighting with frustration and despair for space in his chest.

_“Ok”_

_“I’ll be there in 10 minutes.”_

The tears are still falling, but there’s relief too.  Grindelwald will come get him.  Grindelwald will know what to do.  Percival won’t have to face this alone.

Percival tries not to count, but it’s eleven minutes until Grindelwald texts _“I’m out front.”_

He’s mostly stopped crying, but it’s replaced with an empty sort of aching hollowness which might just be worse.  He scrubs his face roughly and grabs his jacket from the floor, tugging it on as he runs downstairs.  He avoids the kitchen, and if his parents notice him he’s out the door before they have a chance to stop him.

Percival runs to meet Grindelwald at the curb before he really takes it in.  Percival’s family is well off and what his father drives is nice, but it’s nothing compared Grindelwald’s car.  Cautiously, Percival opens the passenger side door and leans down.  Grindelwald is there, smiling kindly at him.

“It’s all right my boy, get in.”

The last of Percival’s hesitations disappear and he slides into the leather seat, shutting the door behind him.  Grindelwald pulls away from the curb smoothly, and Percival leans back.  He’s still trembling a little, trying to keep more tears from spilling over, and Grindelwald pulls them around the corner before he stops the car again, idling the engine and twisting in his seat to place a hand on Percival’s shoulder.

“Your parents don’t value you the way that I do, and I am so sorry for that.  You need to remember what’s really important.”

Percival’s eyes are on the glow of the buttons on Grindelwald’s dashboard, just starting to light up as the sun is setting.

“You’re a bright young man, and soon enough it won’t matter what misguided and selfish ideas your parents have for you.”

“What if they’re right?” Percival asks in a small, strained voice.  “What if I really am a failure.”

“Because of your grades?”

Percival nods.

Grindelwald’s eyes are filled with concern and sympathy, and it eases something in Percival’s chest.  “Grades are a terrible way to get the measure of someone.  They don’t even show how well you know the material my boy, they only show how well you take tests.  It may not feel like it now, but if you open up your mind there is so much more to life than tests.”

Percival is fiddling with the zipper on his jacket.  He wants to believe what Grindelwald says, but…  “Then why can’t my parents see that?”

Grindelwald’s sigh is filled with regret.  “People see what they want to see.  Some people never look outside of the narrow world they live in, and they miss so much.  But you, Percival.”  Grindelwald’s gaze is intense, his tone urgent.  “You don’t have to.  All right?”

Percival nods, feeling just a little lighter.  His parents may never understand, but that doesn’t mean he has to hold himself back.  Everyone else can buy into whatever lie they like, but he and Grindelwald know better.

“Now, let's move on from other people's small mindedness.”  Grindelwald puts the car in gear, and Percival relaxes back into the seat as they leave the neighborhood.

They don’t talk much, and that’s all right.  Percival doesn’t really want to recount what happened, he just wants to feel safe.  He leans his head against the window and lets himself be lulled by the streetlamps flashing past overhead.  He realizes at some point that he doesn’t know where they’re going, but he trusts Grindelwald to make it all right.

When Grindelwald pulls off the highway it's to park along a street downtown, about a block up from where Percival can see tents and colorful lights.  The sun has just about set, and it's lighting up the sky a brilliant orange and pink between the buildings, lending a sort of quixotic ambience to the scene ahead.  Percival has never been to a street fair at night.  It’s not the sort of thing he would have done with his friends, and his parents probably wouldn’t see the point.  But there are people milling about, wandering from stall to stall and talking excitedly with music somewhere in the distance, and Percival can smell food being fried.

He walks with Grindelwald past the stalls, taking in the wide array of things for sale.  There’s jewelry, intricate woodwork, baked goods that make his mouth water and remind him acutely that he hasn’t eaten dinner.  Grindelwald seems to know what he’s thinking.  He buys Percival crepes, chocolate.  Anything he wants to feel more comfortable.  Some of the stalls have games, like the kind you’d find at a carnival, and Percival plays until he’s laughing and has an armful of little plush creatures as prizes.  With anyone else he’d be self-conscious, worried about what people would think of him, but not with Grindelwald.  With Grindelwald, he can just have fun.  He can let go of the worry, the ache of other people’s disappointment, because Grindelwald is right.  Other people don’t understand, and Percival can’t let them hold him back.

Grindelwald pays attention only to Percival, lavishing him with praise and affection, and it’s not long before the fight with his parents has passed out of Percival’s head.  He feels so much better with Grindelwald, loving the noise of the crowd in the gathering darkness and the way Grindelwald looks at him as though he’s the most important thing.  The lights and talk and laughter all blend together and lull him into a comfortable, easy contentment.  It feels like he’s stepped into a world where none of his problems exist.  Everything he says feels right, and he’s so relaxed.

They’re eating ice cream, watching the crowd stream past, when Percival gets quiet.  Grindelwald notices, he cares so much, and Percival can tell he’s waiting for him to speak.  He stares down into his bowl, mashing at his ice cream with his spoon.

“Why are you doing all this?”  Percival almost expects Grindelwald to brush him off, to say something about it being his job as director of Ilvermorny to make sure students are okay, but he doesn’t.

“Because I like you.”  Percival looks up at him, ice cream forgotten.  “Because I see the potential in you, where no one else does.  You could be a great man, Percival.”  Grindelwald’s voice is low, sincere.  Percival blushes, ducking his head down, but he’s smiling.

“Come on.”  Grindelwald wraps and arm around Percival’s shoulders and squeezes.  “Let’s get you home.”

 

\----------------------------------------

 

When Grindelwald parks Percival doesn’t recognize where they are.

“Uh.  This isn’t my –”

“I know.  It’s my house,” Grindelwald says, turning off the engine.  “I just need to grab something.  You can come in if you want to, but if you wait in the car I won’t be long.”  Grindelwald steps out of the car and Percival follows hastily.

“I-I’ll come.”  Percival has seen Grindelwald’s office of course, but his house?  How does a man like Grindelwald live?  He’s curious, and he’s calm in Grindelwald’s presence.  He doesn’t want to wait in the car alone, he’s having such a nice night.  His house should be a nice place to be too.  Percival has never been inside a teacher’s house before.  But then again, Grindelwald isn’t really a teacher.  And right now, he’s more Percival’s friend than anything else.

Percival stands beside Grindelwald on the front step as he unlocks the door, and he follows him inside.

The living room beautiful, luxurious and elegant while somehow still feeling comfortable.  The whole place is spotless, but it feels lived in in a way where Percival can picture Grindelwald going about his life here.  Grindelwald gestures him over to the couch, and he sits down while Grindelwald steps out of the room.

When Grindelwald returns he’s carrying a bottle and two glasses, and he sets them down on the coffee table in front of the couch.

“Drink?”

Percival glances at the bottle, cautious and a little confused.  “I, uh.  I’m not twenty-one.”

Grindelwald looks at him for a second, then chuckles.  “My boy.  It’s fruit juice.”

“Oh.”  Percival flushes.  “Sure, I – yeah, thanks.”

Grindelwald fills Percival’s glass with the dark purple juice, and Percival raises it to his lips to take a sip.  It tastes kind of weird, but it’s good.  He takes another swallow.  “What kind of juice is this?”

“Grape,” Grindelwald answers, pouring himself the same thing.  He sits on the couch next to Percival, and it’s nice.  Percival feels comfortable in Grindelwald’s home.

“I’m very glad to have met you, Percival.  You’re a remarkable boy.”

Percival grins, and he tries to hide it by taking another swallow of juice.  “I’m really glad I met you too.  No one else understands, and it’s just… really nice to have someone to talk to.”

Grindelwald smiles in a way that Percival doesn’t quite understand, but then he’s patting Percival’s shoulder and saying “Always, my boy,” and Percival feels secure.

They chat and it’s cool.  Grindelwald tells Percival stories from when he was in school that make the both of them laugh, and Grindelwald laughing is something Percival will never get tired of seeing.  Percival drains his glass, and when he reaches forward to set it on the table Grindelwald takes it from his hand, refilling it.

Before long Percival is feeling warmer, a little light headed and dizzy but so comfortable snuggled into Grindelwald’s couch.  He’s laughing and laughing, so happy, he hasn’t felt this good in so long.  Grindelwald is amazing, Percival has never met anyone like him, and Percival wants to hug him so he does.  He slides his arms around Grindelwald’s torso, holding him tight and nuzzling his head into Grindelwald’s chest.  Grindelwald is so warm.  He feels Grindelwald’s arms around him, holding him, and Grindelwald is smiling.  He rubs Percival’s back and Percival makes a little, contented noise, basking in the affection.  He feels so safe, so loved with Grindelwald’s arms around him.  He’s so comfortable.  So happy.  Grindelwald bends his head down to kiss Percival’s forehead and Percival grins.  He sighs and squirms closer.

“I like you…” he slurs.  Grindelwald keeps kissing him.  He places soft little touches of his lips on Percival’s cheeks, his forehead, the tip of his nose, and Percival giggles.  It feels so good, and each kiss leave little tingles behind, make Percival want more and more.  His eyes fall shut and Grindelwald gently kisses his eyelids before going back to his cheek. 

Percival is smiling, grinning at nothing, when Grindelwald lifts his chin with a finger and places a soft kiss on his lips.

Percival opens his eyes, and… what?  He… he doesn’t understand.  The room is spinning slightly and he holds on to Grindelwald for support, and Grindelwald’s lips are so very close to his own.  Grindelwald kisses him again, slow, gentle, and it’s nice.  It’s still kissing, not that much different from what Grindelwald was doing before, but somehow Percival feels as though something’s shifted out from under him.  It’s not quite like Percival pictured kissing would be, but he likes it.  He parts his lips just a little and pushes his head forward as he feels Grindelwald’s tongue on his lips.  It makes Percival’s mouth go soft and loose, opening up as Grindelwald slips his tongue inside, licking into his mouth hot, hungry, pushing Percival back into the cushions of the couch and Percival is whimpering into his mouth.

Grindelwald slows.  He cradles Percival in his arms and the kiss is light again, warm and wet and good.  Percival likes this better.

“My boy.  Are you okay?”

Percival nods, eyes blown wide and heart beating hard enough he’s sure Grindelwald can hear it.  There’s a warmth pooling in his abdomen, making him feel good and relaxed.  Grindelwald kisses him again, deep but slow, tongue exploring his mouth, and Percival moans into it, letting Grindelwald wrap one hand around the back of his neck and rest the other on his waist.  Percival gasps and whines when Grindelwald kisses along the line of his jaw, licking over his skin and leaving wet patches that go cold when the air touches them.  He has no idea what’s going on, no frame of reference for this, and it makes his heart jump in ways he can’t identify.  He knows he’s not supposed to do this, he knows it should seem wrong.  Grindelwald is three times his age, and Percival has never... but isn’t it all right if it’s with someone he trusts?  It feels so strangely good.

That liquid warmth is building in him, spreading through his chest, and Percival presses up into Grindelwald’s hand caressing his ribs through his shirt.  Percival isn’t really thinking anymore.  His mind is hazy and slow, and the way that Grindelwald is touching him seems to make him melt.  Percival has never been touched like this before.  It’s not just where Grindelwald’s touching him, but how.  There’s something different in the quality of it, the way that Grindelwald’s fingers fall on him, that makes his whole body bright.

He goes boneless and pliant when Grindelwald kisses down the sensitive skin of his neck, making him shiver and gasp and letting himself be molded in whichever way Grindelwald guides him.  Percival isn’t sure when the fabric of his shirt got bunched up under his arms, but he keens high and loud when Grindelwald’s fingers brush over the bare skin of his stomach.

And then his shirt is gone entirely, pulled off over his head and disappearing somewhere on the floor.  He shivers in the cool air of the living room and Grindelwald’s hands are all over him, stroking down his sides, up to his neck, across his chest, caressing his still developing muscles, and it’s so much.  Grindelwald is kissing all the way down his neck, sucking on his nipples, and it makes Percival feel funny before Grindelwald’s lips are back covering his mouth.

Grindelwald’s hands slip down to his waist, his hips.  And then lower, pressing into the soft skin of his inner thighs, making Percival’s legs tingle.  Grindelwald spreads his legs apart, and Percival balks.

“Wait – wait, I – wha…”  He’s flushed with pure embarrassment, stammering as Grindelwald kneels between his thighs, hands still resting close enough to his groin that Percival is hyperaware of the touch.

Grindelwald is flushed too, but his smile tells Percival it’s not with embarrassment.  Grindelwald’s fingers close around Percival’s wrist and he draws his hand forward, bringing it to rest over the bulge at Grindelwald’s crotch.  Percival can feel Grindelwald’s hard dick under his palm, and his eyes widen.

“See, my boy?  See what you’re doing to me?” 

Percival didn’t mean to.  Silently, speechless, Percival nods. 

“We’re here because of you.  Didn’t you come to me so that I could take care of you?  It’s what you wanted.”

Percival can’t remember.  His head is spinning, but he had wanted to be with Grindelwald, hadn’t he?  He can’t remember exactly what he wanted.  Slowly, distantly, he nods again.

“This is something people do when they care about each other, Percival.  I care for you very much, and I thought you cared for me as well.”

Percival can’t come up with an argument against it.  His lips are trembling as he lies back and Grindelwald spreads his legs, but he does it.  He stares up at Grindelwald’s ceiling, eyes caught on the crystal chandelier, as Grindelwald undoes Percival’s belt and trousers.  Grindelwald’s fingers reach to find his cock and it feels weird to be touched there.  

Percival jolts and moans when Grindelwald rubs the precome around the head of his dick.  The sensation is like a bolt lancing through him.  He’s touched himself before, experimented a little, but it didn’t feel anything like this.  The feeling is replaced with something warm and wet, and oh god, Grindelwald’s tongue is swirling over the head of his dick.  Percival watches with a sort of dazed fascination as Grindelwald swallows his cock down easily, and when Grindelwald sucks it sends a pure liquid pleasure up his spine that drives everything else from his mind.  Grindelwald swallows, tonguing the underside of his cock, and Percival’s hips spasm, his legs going limp and hands grasping desperately at anything he can reach.  He’s crying, moaning, making such obscene sounds but not half as obscene as the sound of Grindelwald’s throat around his dick.  He can’t keep his hips still, bucking up and clinging to Grindelwald’s hair, to the couch cushions, to anything that might anchor him.

The heat is building up inside him, more and more until it's too much to take and it's rippling out through him, pulsing, and Grindelwald’s hand is on his cock.  Percival cries out, jerking, and Grindelwald lays his forearm across his hips to pin him down.  He feels his cock twitching, spurting come across his stomach in hot streaks, and Grindelwald is smiling hungrily.  Percival collapses back against the cushions, wrung out and shaking.

“Look at the mess you made.”  Grindelwald trails his fingers across Percival’s stomach, smearing the cooling come, and Percival looks down at himself.  He whimpers.  He didn’t mean to.  He feels filthy.  Grindelwald pulls a tissue from somewhere and wipes it over his stomach, cleaning him up.  Percival watches him dazedly, feeling oddly helpless as he’s wiped down.  He presses his lips together and turns to tuck his head in against the pillows and cushions on the couch.  He wants to curl up and go to sleep.

There are hands under his arms, pulling him up until he's slumped half against the back of the couch and half against Grindelwald’s chest, his breathing shallow.  Grindelwald hums and wraps an arm around Percival, holding him in place while he guides Percival’s hand to his erect cock.  It curves up out of his trousers and Percival makes a choked little gasp when his hand falls on it.  He feels the weight of it, the length, the thickness.  It's big.  Bigger than Percival’s still growing cock, and heavy.  It makes his hand feel small.

“Here,” Grindelwald murmurs, “let me…”  Grindelwald guides his hand to show him how to rub up and down the shaft, but only for a moment. 

“Hmm.  Come here Percival, open your mouth.”  Grindelwald grunts and pushes on Percival’s shoulders to reposition him, one hand sliding around the back of his neck to pull him down.  All at once Percival understands what Grindelwald is doing and he tenses, shaking his head minutely.

“No?”  Something dark flashes in Grindelwald’s eyes.  “After everything I've done for you, _my boy_?”

Percival whimpers.  His eyes fall on Grindelwald’s cock and he can't.  He can't fit it in his mouth, it's too big, there's no way.  It’s only fair after what Grindelwald did for him – Grindelwald has done so much for him, he wants to show Grindelwald how much he cares – but he’ll never manage.  He can’t.  There’s something curling sickeningly in his chest and he swallows, hard, as Grindelwald takes him by the back of the neck and forces his head down.  The head of his cock hits Percival’s lips and Grindelwald’s fingers are at his jaw, squeezing until Percival’s mouth falls open and Grindelwald forces his cock inside.

It hits the back of his throat and he gags violently, body convulsing against Grindelwald’s grip and he can’t breathe, he can’t breathe with a cock in his mouth oh god.  He’s pushing at Grindelwald’s legs, shoving, but it doesn’t do anything and in the end Percival just clings to the fabric of his pants.

Grindelwald pulls him back, fingers tangled in his hair, and Percival manages one, two gulps of air before Grindelwald pulls him down again.  Grindelwald’s hips thrust up into him, forcing his cock down Percival’s throat, filling him and stretching his mouth painfully wide.  Grindelwald groans with the wet gurgles he pulls from Percival’s throat.  There are tears streaming down Percival’s face, thick strands of saliva running down his chin, and there’s nothing he can do but take it as Grindelwald fucks his throat.

He just wants it to stop. 

Please. 

Please stop. 

He can’t beg, he can’t fight, and his body goes limp. 

When does this end?

The sounds coming out of him are obscene, and he can’t control them at all.  He didn’t know his body was capable of noises like that.  He can’t do anything, can only wait while Grindelwald holds his head in place and fucks up into him.  He just waits for it to end.

When Grindelwald comes he shoves Percival’s head down until his nose is pressed against his stomach, holding him there, and Percival gags and chokes again as semen hits the back of his throat, flooding his mouth.  It’s thick and disgusting and he wants to retch, he doesn’t want it inside him, but he can’t.  Percival is dizzy with the lack of air when Grindelwald pulls him back, and he tries to spit out the come still in his mouth.  Grindelwald growls and clamps a hand over his mouth, other hand at the base of his skull, and Grindelwald’s come is bitter on his tongue.

“Swallow it,” Grindelwald snarls.  “Swallow it all.”

God help him, Percival has to do it.

It slides backwards down his throat, slick, gross, and he swallows it.

He can’t stop crying.

Grindelwald lets him go and he curls in on himself.  It’s like he can feel Grindelwald’s come inside him, thick in his stomach, and he hates it.

“That’s it my boy, well done.  You did so well.”  He pets Percival’s hair and Percival flinches back instinctively, but it makes no difference.  Grindelwald pulls Percival into his arms, praising him, telling him how good his throat felt and that everything’s all right.  Percival doesn’t understand.  He’s tired.  He just wants to go home.  He lies against Grindelwald’s chest until the tears dry up while Grindelwald rubs his back.

“There.  Not so bad, hm?”

Percival shakes his head.  He’s trembling.

Grindelwald gives him another glass of juice and Percival drinks it in small sips to sooth his throat, feeling more lightheaded and dizzy than ever.  Grindelwald takes him out to the car, and Percival doesn’t really remember the drive.

When Grindelwald pulls up in front of Percival’s house Percival sighs in relief, heavy breaths fogging the window he’s leaning against.  He fumbles with the door handle, trying to find the lock, but Grindelwald takes his arm and pulls him to lean across the center console.  Percival falls against him, unfocused.

“My boy,” Grindelwald murmurs, and he’s kissing Percival again.  Grindelwald works his tongue inside, licking and sucking at him messily until Percival’s lips are red and swollen and coated with saliva.  Percival parts his lips for it, letting Grindelwald take his mouth.  He isn’t sure when his body became Grindelwald’s to use, but it is.  The kiss feels good.  His head is so light he wants to throw up.  He closes his eyes.  When Grindelwald pulls back Percival can feel the saliva drying on his skin.

“Good night, my boy.  I’ll see you at school tomorrow.”  Grindelwald flicks a button, and there’s a mechanical thunk as the doors unlock.

Percival nods and stumbles out of the car.  Grindelwald waits until Percival closes the front door of his house to drive away.

The front hall is dark and Percival finds his way upstairs, holding to the banister for support.  He nearly trips a couple times, listing forward, and he doesn’t understand why.  He takes off his shoes and lies down on his bed, room spinning.  He’s exhausted.  He thinks he can still feel Grindelwald’s come in his stomach.  He can’t stop thinking about it.  He can’t sleep.

He has no one to talk to.

**Author's Note:**

> Find me at [ mercurial-tenacity.tumblr.com ](http://mercurial-tenacity.tumblr.com/)!
> 
> Just to be clear - nothing Grindelwald does in this fic is remotely okay. There is an archive warning for rape for a reason, because that's what this is. That said, I hope that you enjoyed it, and I would love to hear from you through comments or tumblr :)

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Last Right Turn](https://archiveofourown.org/works/11592192) by [writingramblr](https://archiveofourown.org/users/writingramblr/pseuds/writingramblr)




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